Later
by whispered touches
Summary: There would be no later. One-shot.


Later

The grass was carpet beneath Ted's feet as he drew close, poking up between his bare toes. Another breeze blew, but he did not shiver: This cold was nothing compared to the icy dread in his chest. He heard the distant rush of the ocean waves, in and out as though the sea itself was breathing.

When at last her figure became more defined against the night, Ted stopped. She had wrapped her arms around herself; her long brown hair was blown back from her face, a tangled mess. He thought that he would have to shout to be heard over the wing, yet when he spoke, his voice rose no higher than usual volume.

"Andy."

No reaction.

"Andromeda."

Ted stepped up beside her and took her hand. At his touch, her fingers curled around his with the desperateness of a drowning person. The new ring was so freezing it burned on his skin.

"Why are you out here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Same reason as you," he said. "Insomnia."

Andromeda nodded, gaze fixed intently on the stars. She gave his hand a squeeze before sliding hers out of his grip, walking further away, to the very edge of the cliff. Ted, not one to give up easily, resumed his spot at her shoulder. He looked down - water slapped hard against rock hundreds of feet below, jagged rock that would shred a person to pieces were they to jump.

"What's wrong?" Ted asked.

Andromeda look at him sharply. "Nothing!" she said, with slight defensiveness and a smile that said, _Everything_.

"That's not true," he countered immediately. "I know it's not."

She shook her head slowly, smile twisting into a smirk bitter as the winter air. "You know everything," she whispered, "and you know nothing."

His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Biting her lip, Andromeda turned away from him. She seemed to be struggling for words.

"Andy," repeated Ted.

Like lightning, she whirled around, teeth gritted and expression anguished. "_Don't call me that!_" she shrieked, voice trembling in an effort to contain her emotions.

Ted swallowed. "Andromeda," he said instead.

Her back was to him again. He wondered if she simply didn't want to look at him - or perhaps she couldn't.

Finally, Andromeda spoke, but it was obviously while she was trying to hold in tears. "I can't do this anymore."

He felt like he had just been hit over the head. All the air suddenly vanished from his lungs; his chest was collapsing in on itself. His knees were weak, and he pushed back the impulse to fall to them.

"W-What?" he choked, although he understood all too well what was happening.

Andromeda failed to discreetly wipe her eyes as a sob shook her shoulders. "I c-can't marry you," she said. "Not now."

"Why?" said Ted, seizing on the last two words. "What's wrong about now?"

She shook her head again, looking over the ocean once more. "I just _can't_."

For a moment, he was silent. Then he said, all in a rush, "Well, I'll wait. I'll wait until you're ready, there's nothing wrong with that, we can wait until later -"

"No, Ted, you don't get it," Andromeda interrupted. It seemed to cost her a great effort to say his name. "There is no 'later.' I can't be with you anymore."

She sobbed again, and Ted could feel tears pricking at his eyes, too. Abandoning all pretense of calm, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him.

"What does it feel like," he said desperately, "when we're together?"

Andromeda twisted away, her crying stopping long enough to answer coherently.

"It's like... like wearing a blindfold, being with you," she said. "I don't know where we're going with this - with _us_ - I only have a vague outline of where you're leading me. I just have to trust you." She closed her eyes. "Blindly."

He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, gasping for air that, with each gulp, sent shards of ice shredding through his lungs. He raised a hand to touch her shoulder, but halfway there, he thought better of it, and it fell limply back to his side.

"You'er serious?" he asked, his one last hope. "You're really... you're really leaving?" The word was like a knife in his throat.

Andromeda slid the engagement ring from her finger, turned to him, but spoke to the ground instead of his face. "Good-bye, T -" She couldn't bring herself to say it. Wiping away another tear from her cheek, she started back to the house, where she knew Ted would not follow her.

"Andy."

She stopped.

"We never said that we would last forever," he whispered, suddenly audible: It was as though the entire world had ceased to turn for this moment. He clenched the ring in his fist so hard his knuckles turned white, the diamond digging into his palm. "We never said we wouldn't ever change." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. His voice was shaking as he went on, "I don't know if you've forgotten that, but if you remember - if you remember, I hope you'll think of me."

Andromeda did nothing.

"I love you," said Ted.

But she walked on.

The moment the door closed, echoing across the field, he tumbled to his knees. He could still see the bottom of the cliff where rock met ocean. It would be easy, he mused, to end it all now.

_Just jump_, urged a voice in his head. _Do it_.

Something like anger rose up in his chest. His vision blurred, eyes burning, Ted drew back the hand holding the ring, reading to chuck it away and never see it ever again.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't.

His arm lay uselessly on the ground, the ring held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. He knew, as long as he lived, this tiny thing would haunt him. He couldn't bear to get rid of it - but looking at it was twice as painful. And it would be a cruel, cruel shock to find it hidden in his sock drawer one day.

He just couldn't win. He lost everything - his parents, his friends, and now Andromeda.

After he already had her.

Ted bent over and cried, horrible, gasping, heartbroken sobs that pierced the night and the stars above, shining down on a lonely man and a by now empty house. He felt small, insignificant, in this massive world, too much alike the massive hole in his heart.

A long, long while later, the sky was beginning to lighten and he returned to the house, fearing the unnatural quiet.

Nothing in the kitchen.

Nothing in the sitting room.

Nothing in the bedroom.

Nothing in Ted.

He fell onto the bed and started crying again, despite the fact that he thought he had cried himself and dry. Andromeda's pillow was still next to his; he pressed his face into it, breathing in only her scent. It was torture - each breath made his chest constrict tighter and tighter, another pang in his heart that really, truly hurt.

_Let me die_, Ted pleaded silently, too tired to make a sound; the tears came unaccompanied now. _Please, God, kill me. Stop this pain_.

There would be no later.

* * *

_A/N: For the Coffee Shop Challenge/Competition - "We never said our love was evergreen or unchanging as the sea. But if you remember, spare a thought for me," from Phantom of the Opera - and Writing Quotes - "You know everything and you know nothing," along with prompts It's like wearing a blindfold, insomnia, stars, pillow, and Oceans, by Racing Kites, the title, and the pairing. It's not the best, but it's good enough. ^_^_

_I am a part of Fanfictioners Against World Hunger, an organization dedicated to fighting said hunger through freerice(dot)com. If you liked this story, please donate x number of grains of rice through your review, and we'll take care of the rest. For more information, please contact _._

_Please, no favoriting without reviewing. And if you took the time to read, please tell me what you thought._

_Even so, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it._

_~whispered touches_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Ted Tonks or Andromeda Black. They belong to J.K. Rowling._


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